


a virtuous influence

by freidynne



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Eavesdropping, F/M, POV Outsider, Secret Relationship, Suggestive Themes, a scandal in the making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freidynne/pseuds/freidynne
Summary: The new archbishop of Fódlan turns out to be quite different from what everyone expected.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 112





	a virtuous influence

Old Olga is not a kingdom knight or a travelling merchant. She was not in Enbarr to witness King Dimitri’s legendary victory against the empire nor was she present in his historic coronation at Garreg Mach. She cannot praise herself for fighting in the streets of Fhirdiad and most certainly has no experience in political counsel and diplomacy.

However, Old Olga takes great pride in serving the Blaiddyd family even before the present king was born. She had doted on the young prince (from afar) whenever he ran across the castle gardens with the Fraldarius or practiced swordsmanship with Sir Gustave, and had wept with him (in her quarters) after the royal family had been massacred. She had mourned his death and had rejoiced when he turned out to be alive.

She had rooted for King Dimitri from the very beginning. 

Thus, as soon as Fhirdiad was liberated and reclaimed by its rightful heir, Old Olga took it upon herself to return to her duties with as much passion as she had for His Majesty and his predecessors. A humble servant she may be, but a seasoned one at that.

Yet, despite having complete confidence in the king, Old Olga cannot help but feel that the future of Fódlan is in dangerous hands.

It is not because King Dimitri is incompetent or unfit to rule the newly united continent. On the contrary, His Majesty’s leadership in the war proved that he is more than capable of steering the previously divided territories into a future of peace, prosperity and reform. The blood flowing in his veins is proof that he is strong enough to protect the land and his heartfelt words show beyond doubt that he cares for the wellbeing of his people.

No. It is not His Majesty that Old Olga is skeptical about, but the advisors he chose to lead with him.

For one, that boy (now man) from Duscur — she still cannot quite recall his name, not that it is of any importance — maintains close relations with His Majesty even after the king has promised to return House Kleiman’s land to the people of Duscur, much to the surprise and protests of old kingdom nobles. What more could he want from Faerghus that he keeps joining its governing councils?

Old Olga has heard whispers that the Duscur boy (man) had saved His Majesty on countless accounts but it is simply his duty as the royal vassal, is it not? Goddess forbid the outsider befriends His Majesty and influences him in any way.

In fact, the foreign spices the boy insisted on using for their most recent dinner had burnt Old Olga’s tongue. Such impertinence to Faerghan culinary traditions! It will not be allowed in her presence! She does not and _cannot_ trust that man, no matter what His Majesty says.

Then there is the young Duke Fraldarius, whom Old Olga is much more familiar with. Why, that boy used to follow the prince's every step and cried every time they were separated! Old Olga would have been comfortable with Lord Rodrigue's son being the king’s right-hand man had she not overheard him call King Dimitri b-bo… she cannot even say it lest someone hears her thoughts and have her hanged!

The insult was said in jest but an insult is an insult nonetheless. Even so, His Majesty simply waved off the barb like it was nothing, making Old Olga think that her king’s softheartedness and kindness would be a danger to them someday. Why, had she held any rank, she would have spoken her mind and demanded that the insolent duke be executed!

Who else can their beloved king trust: The capable yet carefree Gautier charmer who shamelessly carouses even with the chambermaids in the castle? The dignified yet brash Galatea heir who seems to be more concerned with House Blaiddyd’s order of pegasus knights than settling down with a fine and respectable noble?

The future of Fódlan, if left to the hands of these rowdy children, is bleak indeed.

But oh, there is one other person who has gained His Majesty’s favor in the course of the five-year war.

Old Olga does not know much about Archbishop Byleth — only that she was an esteemed professor in Garreg Mach later appointed by Archbishop Rhea herself to lead the Knights of Seiros in her stead. And lead she did, side by side with their long lost prince, until they had turned over the tides of what seemed to be an endless, hopeless war.

Such is Old Olga's admiration for the new leader of the church that she could not sit still the night before the archbishop's scheduled visit to Fhirdiad. Old Olga herself is assigned to assist Her Grace during her stay in the castle, and she plans to use this opportunity to learn more about the sole person who looks trustworthy and competent enough to help His Majesty in his reign. Surely, Her Grace is regal and beautiful even at a venerable age. Will she be as kindhearted and wise as the knights say? Will she be soft spoken or strict?

Since the archbishop did not announce her early arrival, however, Old Olga has to scamper to Her Grace's chambers to check if she needs anything done before her scheduled audience with the king.

She is greeted by the archbishop’s unguarded door. What a humble and unassuming woman! 

Ah, but Her Grace is a seasoned warrior and the walls of the castle are fortified, Old Olga reminds herself with a smile. 

As she is about to announce her presence, however, Old Olga realizes that the archbishop is in fact not alone. Squinting her brows in curiosity, she presses her back against the door to guard it from intruders and eavesdroppers. Who knows what confidential conversations are taking place inside this chamber?

“Your Grace, it has been so long since I last saw you,” a muffled voice of a man says from within. “Your presence is always a source of great joy.”

“I share the same sentiment,” a feminine voice, Her Grace most definitely, answers.

Old Olga strains her ears to hear their words better.

“Shall we get straight to business then? I have not stopped thinking about putting your...” — a cough — “suggestion in motion ever since your last missive.”

“There is no need for haste,” the archbishop admonishes. “Besides, I have not formally announced my arrival to the court yet.”

Outside the room, Old Olga nods sagely to herself. A woman of protocol. As expected from the head of the church. Surely a breath of fresh air compared to the childish members of the king’s counsel. Still, how important must this other person be to have gained an audience with the archbishop even before the king?

Her thoughts are interrupted when the unknown guest speaks again.

“Is that right? I apologize for my enthusiasm. I must admit I have spent sleepless nights dreaming about the day this is finally relieved.”

“You must have had a hard time if you are this excited." The archbishop laughs. Old Olga's wrinkly skin tingles at the sweet sound. "The anticipation kept me up for many moons too."

Old Olga narrows her eyes at the dark wood separating her from one of the most powerful people in the land. Is Her Grace working on some new policy that is yet to be discussed with His Majesty?

Old Olga has always kept her eyes and ears open for developments about the king's governance. Some may call her nosy but she is just being naturally curious — after all, it is the duty of every law-abiding citizen of Faerghus to be concerned about the kingdom. Above all, she considers the king to be akin to a son. Nevermind that they barely interact or that Old Olga employs questionable methods to gather information.

"You must be patient," she hears the archbishop say. “We can address your concern later into the night."

"That sounds like the logical course of action, yes. Shall I come to you or will you be the one to grace me with your presence?" the visitor asks.

"The council room is more spacious, is it not? It would also raise less suspicions if we have to spend time alone."

The guest does not reply right away, and Old Olga imagines him tilting his head in consideration. A late night meeting without the attendance of His Majesty and the other advisors? Old Olga was curious then, but now she is certain that Her Grace is plotting something with this anonymous man.

She very carefully presses her ear against the door to hear more but instead of words, she catches the sound of rustling fabric and creaking wood.

"Beloved!" the Archbishop hisses, earning a gasp from Old Olga, who automatically covers her mouth in fear of being discovered.

Did… did Her Grace just address her visitor with a term of endearment? More importantly, is the archbishop involved in a scandalous tryst? Old Olga’s fingers twitch as she reaches for the door handle but instinct and curiosity caution her to listen for more. And so listen she does: the archbishop is laughing still and the man (disgraceful, appalling, and dishonorable!) is laughing with her.

She hears more rustling of clothes and creaking of wood until the archbishop's lover suggests, "Let's leave this on. You need to look presentable."

"How boorish," Her Grace exclaims. (Old Olga agrees). "Perhaps, you're lucky I was raised a mercenary."

"Perhaps," the man concurs.

At the other side of the door, Old Olga's ears have turned pink — from embarrassment or from anger, she still does not know. If what she just heard is true then, the archbishop is not the woman she expected her to be! Cavorting with an equally shameless man on the same day she is supposed to meet with the king! Such an act is unbecoming of someone who is supposed to work hand in hand with His Majesty.

But wait.

Perhaps there is a mistake, Old Olga thinks as she tries and fails to block out the obscene noises emanating from behind the door. The woman inside said she was a mercenary, right? Certainly, this woman is not the same archbishop who used to be a professor at Garreg Mach's Officers Academy.

Satisfied with her rationalization, Old Olga begins to feel another emotion: panic! If the woman inside is not the archbishop, that means she is at the wrong place at the wrong time. Oh, the scullery maid who directed her to this location will absolutely hear some choice words later.

Old Olga is about to storm away from the chambers when the nameless man grunts words that curiously sound like "Your Grace." Despite herself, Old Olga leans close to the door once again.

There it is again!

So is the archbishop really…?

Before Old Olga comes to a conclusion, the loud creaking from within stops and is replaced by soft whispers. Her hands make a hollow around her ear to hear what the occupants are up to.

"If I could, I would've cancelled today's assembly so I can spend more time alone with you," the archbishop's secret lover says. Perhaps, he is part of the council?

"Patience, dear. We will have all the time in the world after we announce our engagement."

Old Olga sucks in a breath. An engagement!

"I've waited long enough, my beloved."

"As have I. Shall you escort me to the council, then?"

"It would be my pleasure."

Old Olga knows she should run as fast as her short and ancient legs can take her. She knows she should not be seen anywhere near this room. However, despite what her instinct tells her, she remains rooted to her spot as the large oak door swings open to reveal a young woman dressed in deep blue, white and gold. The lady's eyes are big and bright and her smile is captivating. A tiny crown rests on her soft seafoam hair. Entranced, Old Olga wonders if it is rude to shield her own eyes from the radiance. 

The spell is immediately broken when the archbishop jumps at her presence.

"Oh. I did not expect anyone to be here."

Old Olga wrings the ruffles of her apron in agitation. "I-I… Your Grace! I apologize for startling you."

"Is something the matter?" the unidentified person inquires after the archbishop, his voice somewhat familiar to Old Olga's aggrieved ears.

No, no. This will not do. Old Olga will not allow these people near the king any longer!

Summoning all the courage she has bottled up over years of silent observation, Old Olga steeled herself to give this disgraceful lecherous lad a piece of her mind.

When she looks up to meet the offender's eyes, however, she is greeted by none other than the King of Fódlan — His Majesty Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd himself.

Startled and confused, Old Olga bows as low as her crooked spine can allow her. "Y-Your Majesty, pardon the intrusion. I-I'm sorry if my presence has offended you."

"Worry not. Not one thing can put a damper on my mood today," the king says jovially. He offers an arm to the archbishop. "Shall we get going, Your Grace?"

"After you, Your Majesty."

And then they are off.

Slowly, the wheels in Old Olga's mind begin to turn. If His Majesty is the same libertine who made the vulgar noises with Her Grace just moments ago, then that could only mean one thing: The king and the archbishop are involved in a secret affair.

Oh, the future of Fódlan is in dangerous hands, indeed!


End file.
